


Low-Rider

by Ribby



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-12
Updated: 2006-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-22 00:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30030033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribby/pseuds/Ribby
Summary: Viggo is a terrible tease.
Relationships: Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen





	Low-Rider

**Author's Note:**

> So, on the bus to work, I pass an Abercrombie and Fitch, and they have these _huge_ banners out front with their models wearing (well, ostensibly wearing) their jeans. Actually, the photo is only about 8 inches of the model, from the navel down to about mid-thigh... and most of that is bare skin. And it occurred to me that not only is this a _serious_ tease, but that it just _begs_ for casual sex--yank the jeans off, bend the guy over a convenient surface, and that's that. Well, my Sean!muse _really_ liked that idea... Pure unadulterated porn, really, no redeeming value here. _*grin*_

Viggo was a terrible tease. That was the prevailing impression Sean had after a week of crashing at Viggo's place because the hotel had lost his reservation.

He'd walk around in threadbare jeans, with holes just about everywhere, no shirt, and barefoot, completely unconscious of how edible he looked. He'd sit cross-legged on the couch in _those_ jeans, the ones with the rip mid-thigh, flashing teasing glimpses of silky skin, and causing Sean to wonder just how far up that tan went. Sean had, at this point, taken to sitting on the couch clutching a pillow in his lap, just to hide his reaction, wearing a flannel tied around his waist other times. Grunge didn't suit him, he knew, but showing off a raging hard-on to his best friend, _for_ his best friend, suited him even less.

After a week, Sean was holding onto his restraint with teeth and nails. Either Viggo knew exactly what he was doing, or else he was... no, not even Viggo could be that clueless. Everyone has a breaking point, and Sean's came, of all times, right before lunch.

Viggo, in a pair of jeans hanging so low that Sean wasn't sure _how_ they were staying up, had bent over the couch to grab something. The jeans slipped another inch, and that was it... the gloves were off.

Sean strode toward the couch and pinned Viggo down with one arm, and, ignoring Viggo's stuttered "Hey!", reached around and _tugged_ until the frayed waistband gave way, and the jeans slithered to the floor. Faced with what seemed _miles_ of tanned Viggo-skin, Sean jumped in like a kid in a candy store, desperate to taste everything he could.

Starting at the nape of Viggo's neck, where he set his teeth, just to remind Viggo who was in charge (and gloating at the groan and aborted buck upwards that caused), he took his time tasting all the way down Viggo's back, nipping and licking and sucking. while his hands wandered down and under and around, mapping out his route for him. Down, slowly and teasingly, he wandered, then skipped over where he knew Viggo wanted him most, and started up from Viggo's feet, nipping behind his knees just for the reaction Sean knew it would get, then finally, sinking his teeth firmly, though not painfully, into the rounded swell of Viggo's ass. He licked at the crease where thigh met ass, teasing upwards and around, but never quite diving down into the space between... until Viggo's curses and broken pleas became clear, coherent begging. "Do it... please... lick me... Sean, please!"

Parting Viggo's cheeks, Sean just breathed, enjoying the twitch and pulse of Viggo's hole from the sensation. Then, giving in, Sean explored that hidden place thoroughly, delighting and luxuriating in the midnight spice of him, dark and musky and exotic. He licked, sucked, bit, and thrust, until Viggo was incoherent and nearly voiceless, until slick wet flesh welcomed the intrusion of fingers and tongue.

Sean, thankful he was wearing loose cargo pants, nearly ripped the button free in his haste to get his pants undone... but undone, and shoved down to his thighs was as far as he went, something in the feeling of fucking Viggo, completely naked, while he was still dressed hitting so many buttons he couldn't count them. And Viggo, slut that he'd turned out to be, had reached behind himself and was holding himself open for Sean, begging with his body.

It was a good thing Viggo was relaxed, because Sean couldn't help the frantic, hard, deep thrusts--the vision of Viggo offering himself, _begging_ for it, nearly made him cross-eyed with want. But Viggo took everything he offered and begged for more, harder, deeper, until Sean was hammering into him, feeling the couch shift slightly with every movement, and still Viggo pressed up with every thrust, desperate to take Sean deeper.

Sean reached around to grasp Viggo's cock, and one stroke did it--Viggo came with a howl that might have been Sean's name, hot pulses spurting over Sean's hand, and the couch. It was the howl that did it, the primal intensity of it, and Sean answered it with his own cry as he came, pulsing into Viggo's ass, his own orgasm extended and eked out by the grip-release-grip-release of Viggo's muscles.

He had enough presence of mind not to slump down on top of Viggo, but his arms only held him up for a few minutes; their twinned moans of disappointment when Sean slid out of Viggo were, in a sense, as intense as the sex they'd shared. Sean slid down Viggo's body again, but this time with loose muscles, and no intent, curling up on the floor with his cheek against Viggo's hip.

"Finally," Viggo laughed, "I wondered how much longer it was going to take."

Sean hmphed, sleepily "Tease. Hey Vig, you ever thought about being an Abercrombie & Fitch model?"

Viggo's laughter was sweet, and followed him down into sleep.


End file.
